


no masters but ourselves

by shirozora



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Study, I'm in Dragon Age hell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirozora/pseuds/shirozora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is, Fenris realizes much later than he’d like, more to life as a free man than being loudly, violently defiant when faced with his past</p>
            </blockquote>





	no masters but ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> cw: reference to implied past master/slave relationship
> 
> I'm not sure why it took until my third Hawke - a female mage romancing Isabela - to decide that now's the time to dabble into writing Fenhawke but there you have it. Influenced in large part by reading about maladaptive schemas and other... very serious things of a very serious nature. But this isn't serious, I swear. It was almost serious, but I caught my attempt at a Very Serious Very Deep Fic and stopped that nonsense. 
> 
> Set in Act 2, after the romantic encounter, during the last part of the Forbidden Knowledge side quest, and before All That Remains.

There is, Fenris realizes much later than he’d like, more to life as a free man than being loudly, violently defiant when faced with his past. More than ripping their hearts out with his clawed hands.

“Hawke,” he says slowly, feet dragging a bit as they approach the empty mansion. “I would… like to try something.”

“Hmm?” 

He clenches his hands, asks, “May I?”

“Well,” Hawke says, “as long as it’s nothing like sticking your hand in my chest-”

“It’s not. It’s….”

Hawke smiles, a man of infinite patience that oftentimes bewilders him, says, “Then yes, you may-”

Fenris lunges forward and startles Hawke into silence with a quick kiss. He doesn’t linger, can’t without dredging up memories of that night months ago or the life he once lived that shackles his mind like it did his body. His heart beats too fast when he pulls away and he can’t tell if the shiver up his spine is from fear or joy. Perhaps both.

All worth it for the surprise on Hawke’s face and the radiant smile that appears a second later. Hawke leans forward as if to return it but stops, perhaps also remembering that night. The smile doesn’t dim as he bids Fenris good night at the door and walks away.

A few days later, they’re in the forgotten tunnels under Darktown, picking up after a hard-fought, hard-won victory against an ancient demon. Varric is collecting his bolts, Merrill is sighing over the remnants of the Grimoire, and Hawke is laughing under his breath while wiping ichor off his face and checking for chinks in his armor.

“Of course there’s a book full of evil magic hidden under Kirkwall, of course you unleash a really old demon if you destroy it, of course this happens if you’re me-”

Fenris would be laughing, too, if it came naturally to him. Instead he walks up to Hawke and waits until the man turns to him. And like that - another kiss, briefly against lips still tacky with drying blood. He steps back to see Hawke stare at him and then grin before resuming his lighthearted complaints about trouble following him around.

“You got it all wrong,” Varric says once they’re back in Darktown, walking to that abomination’s clinic. “You chose to spare Idunna and then agree to destroy the books for her. You bring this shit on yourself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Hawke agrees, glancing at Fenris.

Over the next several weeks, Fenris takes to kissing Hawke whenever and wherever they are, briefly and when nobody is watching. It becomes almost like a game for him, taking some small measure of joy in catching Hawke unawares and watching the man smile after. It feels like a victory, quiet and small and just as glorious as whenever he kills the slavers sent to drag him back to his old life.

He left that life behind long ago and he’ll never return to it. Not when he’s had a taste of what it’s like to truly be free.

* * *

Sometimes, in the lull between Kirkwall’s many crises, Hawke will come knocking at the door with a bottle of wine and help Fenris make sense of the symbols in the pages of _A Slave’s Life_. Learning to read is by turns frustrating, dull, confusing, and satisfying, and Hawke is forever patient with him and his occasional flare of anger. 

“If not tonight, then we’ll just pick it up another night,” he says after Fenris slams the book shut and shoves it aside. “Wine?”

“ _Please_.”

Hawke leaves when the night is just shy of becoming day. He tucks the empty bottle under his arm and says, “Tomorrow - today? Let’s drag Isabela and Anders out to Lowtown with us and collect that reward later today.”

“I can’t wait,” Fenris says dryly. Then, when the man’s halfway out the door, “Wait. Hawke.”

Hawke turns and Fenris steps forward to kiss him. He lingers a little this time, warm with wine and company, and murmurs, “Thank you.”

“What for?” 

“For… being patient with me.” He realizes he’s not just talking about the reading sessions around the same time that Hawke does.

“You’re welcome,” Hawke says and even this late at night, he smiles brightly. “Good night, Fenris. Or good morning; I swear that’s the dawn coming ‘round. Mother’s going to kill me.”

“You’re a grown man.”

“Try convincing her of that.”

Fenris laughs, leans against the doorway, and says, “Send Leandra my regards. She has excellent taste in wine.”

“How do you know it’s not me that picked it up?”

“Hawke, you drink that thing they call ‘ale’ at the Hanged Man with Varric every other day and night. You wouldn’t know a good wine from a bad one.”

They’re stalling, Hawke lingering at his door and the night patrol determinedly ignoring them while walking by. Fenris watches until they’re out of sight and when he glances back, Hawke is standing closer. 

“May I?” Hawke asks quietly.

Fenris wonders what would happen if he says “Another night, perhaps,” but he doesn’t because that’s not what he wants. Instead, he nods and Hawke kisses him just as lightly, with soft lips tasting of wine and newer memories. 

Hawke’s face is flushed even darker when he pulls away. “Remember - Lowtown, today. After we collect, I’m buying everyone a round at the Hanged Man.”

Fenris smiles.

“I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes Shartan's response to the Warden's correct answer during A Test of Faith in the Urn of Sacred Ashes quest in Origins:
>
>> It was my dream for the people to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves.


End file.
